


Bold Leading the Blind

by AsterHowl



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 16:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16559024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsterHowl/pseuds/AsterHowl
Summary: Madison convinces Cordelia to join her for a night out at a club, all to prove that Madison can get her to do anything she wants.





	Bold Leading the Blind

“It’s a shame you can’t see everyone checking you out.”  
Cordelia spits a laugh against the rim of her drink. “You’re a bad liar.”  
Madison tosses her hair and regards her. “What reason would I have to lie to you?”  
The glass is placed neatly on the counter. The woman had a modest elegance to her movements before but now the way she feels herself through space looks to Madison like a sad but impossibly graceful dance.

“To flatter me. To disarm me. To lower my guard.” The blind woman hiccups in amusement. “There’s a list a mile long.”  
“Well I definitely wanted to flatter you.” Madison stirs the ice in her drink with a finger until it starts to burn. “But I wasn’t lying to you.”

The bass pounds in her chest, complimenting the smug feeling the gets seeing her teacher blush.  
Cordelia clears her throat. “It’s so loud in here.”  
Madison shifts on the stool, leaning closer to her ear. “Is this better.”  
A hand comes up to swat her away like a fly and Madison rears back chuckling behind her fingers. “God, you really are wound tight aren’t you? Pull the right string, you could bring this whole place down.” She lifts her drink up to her lips and watches Cordelia fume uncomfortably. “Wouldn’t that be something to see.”

“Why did I let you bring me here?” Cordelia mutters miserably. Her hands clasp around the glass as if it’s the only thing keeping her afloat.  
“Concilium.” The way Cordelia’s body tenses brings Madison no small sense of satisfaction. “Relax. I’ve never needed mind control to get someone to do what I want.”

“Why do you do this?”  
Madison laughs reflexively through her teeth.  
Cordelia’s voice is so strained and dry it cracks. “You tell me I need to go out. Have fun. Loosen up. Yet you insist on antagonizing me.”  
Madison sighs as the last of her laughter bounces off her diaphragm. Cordelia is staring vaguely in her direction. The acid scars in and around her eyes give her a fragile and dangerous quality Madison finds exhilarating.

“It’s called bonding.”  
“It’s bullying.”  
“So give me detention.”  
The corner of Cordelia’s mouth twitches. Madison sips her drink, the ice blocks cold against her lips.  
“Ah,” Cordelia says. “You want me to retaliate.”

“You know your mom regularly hurls us across the room like we’re the dolls you leave cluttering up her floor. The least you could do is tell me when I’m being a little shit.”  
“You’re being a little shit.”  
“See?” Madison leans in close to her again. “I can get you to do whatever I want.”

Madison smirks at the way Cordelia’s jaw clenches in frustration. She shuffles on the edge of the stool, arm on the counter and rises up to meet her face so the woman can feel her breath against her cheek. “Bet I can get you to dance with me.”  
“I’d like to see you try.”

“Bet you’d like to see a lot of things.”  
“Touché.” Cordelia hoists her glass and takes a sip.  
Madison likes that she can sit and simply stare at this older woman, take her time to indulge in all the fine details that are quietly telling stories Cordelia might not otherwise want told. Maybe it was rude or unethical, an invasion of her privacy, since Cordelia didn’t have the same capacity to identify and prevent such a close scrutiny of her person as most. Madison takes every advantage, but is also wary of keeping an eye out for anyone else doing the same.

“Why did you let me take you out tonight?” she asks.  
“A moment of madness.”  
“A moment of madness is when you thought we could trick your mother into killing herself. Pardon me for saying, but this feels more like a moment of weakness...” Madison loves the way her words coil around Cordelia like snakes. 

Cordelia’s blind gaze is attuned somewhere across the counter, and her shoulder blades flex as her spine arches, perhaps trying to shake off the phantom sensations Madison evokes.  
“What answer would satisfy you, Madison?”  
“I think you know exactly how to satisfy me. Cordelia.”

The woman’s hands come away from her glass, fingers curling in shame, her skin flushing in humiliation, her lips drawing tight, creating tiny lines of apprehension. Madison leans closer to her.  
“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me. Or at least, when you could look at me.”  
“I never...”  
“Now who’s the bad liar?”

The thumping bass pounds relentless in her chest, in her throat. The whole room is moving beneath her feet, but Cordelia is perfectly frozen. In that moment Madison feels sorry for her, because as much as she enjoys getting under her skin, she also loves the ways she tries to resist her. But she can see that resistance weakening, coming off her in feather light flakes. 

With one hand she reaches across the small of her back, and Cordelia jumps at the contact.  
“Here,” Madison says, and with the other, takes Cordelia’s hand. As anticipated, Cordelia gasps because she expects to be struck by visions. Madison adjust her hand to take a more complete and firm hold, watching Cordelia try to hide behind the long silken waves of her own hair. 

As Madison slides herself from the stool she gives Cordelia a pull. Resisting at first, Cordelia bites her lip in concentration and lets Madison help her find her footing. She is surprised that when she turns, when the arm around her back slips away, Cordelia lunges into her, grabbing for her clothing. At first Madison thinks that maybe someone bumped into her, but the way Cordelia’s hand climbs its way up her arm and clasps her shoulder reveals a sadder truth. 

She reaches for and takes her other hand, holding them both now in each of hers. She makes sure that Cordelia can hear her voice over the deafening music and squeezes her hands to assure her that it could not possibly be anyone else touching her. “I won’t let go. Not even to fuck with you. I promise.”  
The noise Cordelia makes is partly a whine and partly a laugh. Madison slides her hands along Cordelia’s arms, gripping her forearms firmly before the joints. In turn, she feels Cordelia’s fingers claw into her. She moves backwards through the tightly packed crowd, tugging Cordelia to the dance floor. 

She is careful to manoeuvre the woman to avoid accidental contact with other people. It is difficult with so many squirming, gyrating bodies. Madison finds herself holding Cordelia closer and closer, a proximity her teacher acknowledges with the subtle licking of her bottom lip. 

A sudden chain of rapid beats preludes a change of song, in as much as repeated rhythmic tone and pounding bass can be called a song. The flashing lights synchronise with the new tempo. The bodies around them find new ways to move to it. Madison is already swaying, bending her body in salacious motions as she moves her hands further up Cordelia’s arms. 

When they reach her neck Cordelia swats one of her hands away. “No, Madison.”  
Madison can hear her well enough, though there is not nearly the conviction behind her voice Cordelia thinks there is. So she keeps her arms resting loosely on the woman’s shoulders, and continues to swerve her hips, letting her body slowly rise and fall. 

With a smirk she turns her body around, drawing Cordelia’s arms around her like a towel. She feels her recoil from the intimacy, but her fear of being left alone amongst so many strangers locks her arms in place. Madison moves slowly and grins when she can glimpse, in the strobing light, people staring at them. 

She turns again, and now she’s facing the woman, and Cordelia’s arms are still around her, and she knows the woman can feel her breath on her mouth. The arms unlock, and Cordelia takes a wild step backwards, yelping in fright when she knocks into a stranger. 

He’s not angry but in his surprise his voice, to Cordelia, sounds hostile and she cowers in the other direction. Madison has to reach forward and pull her back to prevent her knocking into someone else.  
“I can’t do this,” Cordelia says, huddling in Madison’s steadying embrace.  
“Here.” She takes Cordelia’s hand again. “I’m sorry. Please, just dance with me.” She lifts Cordelia’s hands and puts them on her shoulders. 

After a while Cordelia grips firmly.  
Madison hesitates before saying, “I’m going to hold your hips.”  
Cordelia bites her lips and then, to Madison’s relief and delight, nods affirmatively. She is careful to be gradual with the contact, but Cordelia still gasps when Madison’s fingers feel against the edges of her hips. She curls and hooks her thumbs into the band of her pants. She smirks at the apprehensive angle of Cordelia’s slender eyebrows. 

She locks her arms so that when her own hips move, Cordelia has to move with her. They rise and fall together, the bass hammering shockwaves from their feet to their skulls and back. Madison can feel the whole woman vibrating. 

She watches Cordelia’s face closely as she slowly, almost imperceptibly, drags her thumbs towards the front of her pants. Perhaps she barely notices because Cordelia is holding on to her and concentrating on blindly mimicking the younger woman’s dance moves. Because by the time she reacts to it, Madison already has the button lose and the zip half way down. 

“Madison...” Cordelia’s voice cracks frantically. Madison has the zip down completely. She runs her left thumb around the band again, taking a firm grip of it from behind. It brings the woman closer and Madison uses her other hand to drag the backs of brightly polished nails down the thin fabric of her panties. 

The mouth of her teacher widens and her hips buck as Madison’s fingers reach deep. They buck again when she drags her nails back up and then push down inside the flimsy material. Cordelia’s fingers tighten on Madison’s shoulders like talons and she whines both in misery and in desperation. Her eyes are squeezed shut and even in the irregular, mostly dark light, Madison can see her skin flush furiously because Madison is feeling how wet she is, how wet she has been, and knows now that her arousal probably began the moment the girl asked her to come out with her.

Madison makes them sway, and grinds the flat of her palm against her groin while her fingers seek and curl easily up inside her.  
“Haaah! Nnnmm...” Cordelia gasps and grimaces, pulling the girl closer because it is her only recourse to hide what is being done to her. Madison halts her ministrations, simply keeping her hand cupped there, fingers inside her, and keeps them swaying. 

Cordelia is making noises Madison can barely hear over the sound of the music. She can feel her both trying to and stop herself grinding against her hand. The grip on her shoulders weakens, but the hands there feel through her hair and find her neck, thumb finding and sticking up against her jaw to tilt her head up. Madison lets her hesitate, and takes in the shame and uncertainty in and around her pale, broken eyes. Cordelia claims her lips with hers shuddering with repulsion and tormenting need. 

When they part Madison notes that Cordelia seems surprised by how gentle it was, that Madison simply let her kiss her. But the slight shift of her fingers sends Cordelia’s head back and air rushing in between her teeth. Madison begins moving her fingers, two of them, pulsing against slick walls.  
“Oooooh...!” Cordelia tries to find a way to hold her that will relieve the weakness in her knees. “Please, Madison...”

Madison smirks fondly and obliges because the woman has probably been on the verge long before she put her hand down her pants. She builds a steady and predictable rhythm between grinding her hand and feeling deep inside her, one Cordelia can choose to meet or exploit. The woman shudders when she comes, and begins to buck so hard against her hand, Madison has to take a step backwards to brace them both. 

They stay together. Cordelia has wrapped her arms entirely around her, stiff with self loathing and regret. Madison has to urge her back a little, and as she withdraws her hand, she hears Cordelia whimper in her ear. She is quick to redo the button and draw up the zip and even this causes the woman to twitch. The bass is still pounding. The lights are still flashing. 

Cordelia is the picture of defeat, head down, shoulders slack. It is an all too familiar sight. Madison takes her hands from her shoulders. Cordelia turns her head away, lips tight and eyes shining with tears because one of Madison’s hands is sticky and wet. Madison smirks because humiliating her like that was unintentional. She takes her dry hand and cups the cheek turned away from her. The touch makes Cordelia sob and sniff and bring a hand to cover her mouth. 

Madison has to roll her eyes and shake her head. There’s little point in trying to communicate now with the music so loud so she just steps close, puts an arm around her and begins leading her through the club. 

They haven’t spoken a word and Madison is driving them back home. She looks across at Cordelia, noting the way she is gripping the arm rest on the car door, the way her head is turned as though to look out the window and knowing she sees nothing. 

“Say something.”  
Madison is only surprised the words don’t come out of her own mouth.  
“Tell me that you won. That I did exactly what you said you could make me do.” Her voice is raw, and in places is merely breath.  
Madison looks out at the road and the reflector lights drifting past.  
“Tell me that you proved I was lying.”

“I won’t do that,” Madison says. She’s tired and exhausted. Her wrist aches.  
Cordelia turns her head slightly from the window.  
“If you want to be honest with yourself, that’s great. If you want to keep lying to yourself...Well. Maybe that’s what you need right now.”

Madison senses her trying to detect any guile in her voice. She wonders what conclusion Cordelia draws. For the rest of the trip she doesn’t say another word.


End file.
